


Archer, Hacker, Soldier, and Co.

by writergirl75



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Team Arrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl75/pseuds/writergirl75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to put my current round of Arrow related drabbles, heavy on Oliver/Felicity and classic Team Arrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is forced to deal with some serious feelings when Palmer uses Felicity as bait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I wasn't going to write fanfic for a while…but I guess Arrow is determined to hang on to my imagination. I know this should be a whole story, and I know that there are scenes similar to this already floating around. But this wouldn't leave me alone so I thought I'd scribble it down and share. It started out as an excuse to let Oliver punch Ray Palmer and turned into gush.

It had been four hours since the Emergency Room at Starling Memorial hospital had called Oliver and Digg, three and a half hours since Oliver had lowered himself into the chair, numb with shock and anguish as the doctor rattled off her list of injuries. He hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at her ever since. So when her eyelids flickered he was up and standing over her in an instant. 

“Hi,” she said, her voice scratching in her throat.

He swallowed hard, looking down at her. “Hi.”

“You look like crap,” she muttered.

He let out a small laugh. “Look who’s talking.” 

She tried to move and winced in pain. He reached for her, stopped, and curled his hand into a fist resting it on the side of the hospital bed. Then he asked the question that had run over and over through his brain for the last four hours.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Felicity?” he whispered. 

She frowned. “Tell you?” 

Swallowing he pounded his fist slightly against the metal rail on the bed. “I know things haven’t been quite right, but we would have backed the two of you up in a heartbeat.”

“Backed us up?” she echoed again. 

“With Hardin,” he said, and this time he let himself touch her, just his fingertips on her forearm, just enough to reassure himself she was there. 

“Hardin?” she said, and he wondered if she was disoriented. Then her eyes went wide. “Oliver, what happened to me?”

“You got shot,” he said. “And from what the doctor told me, pitched down a flight of stairs.” In spite of his best efforts his voice broke. “Palmer’s trap worked a little too well. If Lance hadn’t found the two of you…” 

“Trap?” She tried to sit up a little, and let out a cry of pain. Immediately his hand settled on her stomach, gently urging her to stay still. “Oliver, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Something clicked into place in his brain. From the moment he’d realized what happened, it had seemed unbelievable that Felicity would have done something like this without telling them. He’d been mentally torturing himself with the idea that he’d pushed her so far away that she hadn’t even felt like she could ask for his help. 

Now, it made sense. She hadn’t known she was being used as bait. He clenched his jaw tightly, suppressing the flood of rage, trying to keep her from seeing it. “We can talk about it later,” he managed.

“Wait…I…” she protested reaching out to grab his arm. 

Careful to keep his eyes from hers, knowing what she would see, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Just get some rest. I’ll be right back.” 

He knew that he pushed through the door of her room with too much force, his breathing heavy and sharp. Hearing a voice, he felt like something inside of him literally broke apart, his anger turning into a monster that pounded for release. 

Taking the ten steps down the hallway toward his target, he barely heard Digg’s voice as his friend came up beside him. “Oliver? What is it?”

Palmer glanced up; there were stitches on his forehead and his arm was in a sling, but Oliver did not care. Surging forward he slammed a fist into the man’s jaw and then felt himself tugging against a strong grip as something tried to pull him back. 

Spinning, enraged at the restraint he stopped just short of punching John Diggle. “Let me go, John,” he growled. 

“Oliver, wait. I know you’re angry, but,” Digg said quickly.

“She didn’t know,” Oliver ground out, spinning back to Palmer. “Did she?” he shouted. 

Palmer held a hand to his face, his lip was bleeding. He didn’t look afraid, but he did look a bit ashamed. “I didn’t think she’d get hurt,” he said. 

Oliver felt Digg’s grasp loosen, his voice sounding shocked, and nearly as angry as Oliver felt. “What?”

Wanting Diggle to understand he gulped in several breaths. “He used her…and she didn’t know.”

Digg let him go, but luckily Oliver’s brain had gotten hold of the monster a bit and shoved it back in a cage. It was a good thing he hadn’t had a gun in his hand. Stalking forward he grabbed Palmer by the collar and shoved him hard against the nearest wall. “How could you do that to her?” 

There was a hard look on Ray Palmer’s face now. “I’m not the first person to use her as bait. Am I, Oliver?” he said quietly. 

The words hit him hard, not just because they stirred the guilt that was so thinly buried beneath the surface of Oliver’s heart, but also because that was something Ray Palmer should not have known about. He had a sudden wave of nausea, “Did she…?”

Palmer rolled his eyes a bit and with surprising skill pushed out of Oliver’s hold. “Of course not. I just know more than you’d expect about all of you.” 

Oliver shook his head. He knew he should care, but honestly he didn’t. “Get out,” he said, curling his hands into fists. 

“I want to see…” Palmer protested. 

“He said get out,” Digg said, moving to stand at Oliver’s shoulder. 

Palmer’s eyes slid from Oliver to Diggle. “Don’t you think that should be her choice?”

“Not anymore,” Oliver said. “Leave now, or I will make you.” 

With a long sigh Palmer straightened his tie and turned away, Oliver didn’t move until he’d disappeared from sight. 

“She might not be too happy with us,” Digg said. 

“Do you care?” Oliver asked, turning to face his friend.

Digg gave him half a smile. “Depends.”

“On what?” Oliver snapped. 

Digg titled his head. “On if this little incident helped you get your head on straight.”

He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what John was talking about but he did. Getting that phone call tonight had been one of the worst moments in his life – and with his life, that was saying something. The feelings he’d wrestled back into a box over the last few months were going to be even more difficult to contain, and he honestly wasn’t sure it was even possible anymore. 

The weight of those thoughts and his sleepless night made him exhausted suddenly. He put a hand to his face and found that it was shaking slightly. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself. “I feel like I need…”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Digg said and there was a sharp edge of irritation in his voice. When Oliver shot him a questioning glance he continued. “You say you love her, and I think you do, so maybe it’s time to stop worrying about what you need, and start worrying about what she needs.” 

It was like being slapped in the face – and knowing you deserved it. He took a step back from Digg. Yes, he’d protected Felicity, and thought about her safety, but not once had he thought about the situation in quite those terms. Apparently the spoiled selfish brat he’d once been hadn’t entirely died when the Queen’s Gambit went down. 

He really didn’t want to be that person anymore. 

“Okay,” he said, letting the word fall out on a breath. 

Digg look shocked. “Okay? Just like that?” 

It was like a switch had been flipped inside of him somewhere, new mission, new goals. Oliver felt himself smile a bit. “Yeah.” 

Shaking his head, Digg’s face broke out into an answering smile, He grabbed Oliver’s shoulder and turned him back toward Felicity’s room. “Then I think there’s somewhere else you need to be.” 

Oliver walked through the door of Felicity’s room and felt like eight years of misery lifted off his chest as he looked at her. 

“Everything okay?” she asked. He could tell she was fighting to stay awake. 

“Yeah,” he said walking toward her. This time when he felt the urge to put a hand on her face he didn’t stop. “Everything is just fine.”

There was a question in her eyes, but she blinked heavily. “I’m so tired,” she said. Then reaching up and grabbing his wrist she said, “Don’t leave, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise,” he said. 

It was the first of many promises that he made, and kept, to Felicity Smoak.


	2. The Brains and The Muscle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Diggle have a chat about his "secret identity".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the friendship between John Diggle and Felicity Smoak, in fact, it's one of my favorite things about Arrow. For some reason though, I've struggled to find an outlet for that appreciation in my fanfic…so here's a tiny start to that. A sort of "missing scene" from season two, episode two.

"You know that you're way more than that, right?" Felicity says to John Diggle after Oliver has gone off to his first CEO meeting of the day. She is typing a mile a minute, one hand on her tablet and one hand on her desktop keyboard. It is freaky and impressive at the same time.

He has no clue what she is talking about. "More than what?"

"That whole 'black driver' thing. Nobody who spends time with you for five minutes would reduce you to that," she says firmly.

It's a naïve comment, he thinks, and for a second he's tempted to call her on it. There are plenty of people who'd never see past the color of his skin and the fact that he holds the door open for a billionaire. But he likes that Felicity sees the world this way; that she defaults to seeing the best in humanity. So he settles for crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the side of her desk. "Is that right?"

She nods, pausing one hand. "You're smart and kind." Then she looks up and gestures at him, "And you've got arms the size of Metropolis," she says. "So at the very least you're the muscle."

Then finally both hands go still and she looks worried. "Is that better or worse than being the 'black driver'? I would think better, because at least 'the muscle' doesn't have any specific racial stereotypes associated with it but…"

He's tempted to let her go on, to see how big a hole she'll dig before she finally manages to stop herself. Rambling Felicity is one of his key sources of entertainment these days. But he can tell she's more than a little stressed out. "Felicity," he says.

She looks up, nervously. "Yes?"

He nods at her. "You be the brains, I'll be the muscle."

She looks instantly relieved, and then she tilts her head and frowns as if thinking about something. "What does that make Oliver?" she asks.

He stands up. "Better to leave that one alone."

She gives him a wicked little smile. "I have suggestions…"

Holding up his hands and heading for the door he says, "I don't want to know."

But he hears her mutter something under her breath as he walks away, and he grins. He has a feeling Oliver's going to wish he'd rethought the whole "secret identity" thing where Felicity is concerned.


	3. Waiting for Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver have an interesting conversation while waiting for Ray Palmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Daughtry song has always reminded me of Oliver and Felicity and the fun double-reference here was something I simply couldn't resist.

"He's late," Oliver hissed through the earpiece that Felicity hoped was hidden under the fall of her hair.

"He's the CEO of Queen Consolidated," Felicity muttered. "Apparently it's part of the job description."

"Not funny," Oliver growled.

Felicity smoothed a hand down her royal blue dress and tried not to fidget on her heels as yet another couple walked past her into the opulent hotel ballroom. She wouldn't have admitted it to Oliver but she was a little annoyed that Ray had left her to stand awkwardly outside a gala that he'd asked her to attend. The same gala where the first contacts in a black market arms deal might also be going down.

She pulled her phone out of the tiny purse and checked the time again – 8:45. It was fifteen minutes past the time he promised to meet her. Maybe he really had forgotten; one of his tech toys proving to be more interesting that she was. Sighing she said, "With my luck, he isn't coming."

There was a long silence, and Felicity wondered if Oliver was just going to ignore her. He did that a lot these days, and though she understood it, she couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. After all, he was the one who put the brakes on their …whatever… not her.

Finally, and with obvious reluctance in his voice he said. "He'll be here."

"What makes you so sure?" she asked.

"Only an idiot would stand you up, Felicity," Oliver said. His voice had the same flat even tone that he always had when he was in "mission mode" but she sensed he was having to work for it a bit more than usual. "And after all Palmer is a Rhodes Scholar."

"Right," Felicity said, she swallowed hard. It was the first time he'd come even close to saying something personal to her. Even though she knew it was foolish she couldn't quite bring herself to let it go. "And what kind of man keeps a girl like me waiting?" She gave a polite smile to a woman who glanced her way, probably wondering why she was talking to herself.

Again there was silence, and Felicity wondered if Oliver had just retreated further back into his hood-covered shell.

"If we didn't need intel on what's going on inside this gala tonight," Oliver said, "I'd say that a man who keeps someone like you waiting probably wasn't worth your time in the first place." This time his careful tone did slip, and Felicity could hear a tinge of anger creep into Oliver's words. She had a feeling they were talking about more than her current employer.

The inherent self-loathing in Oliver's words softened the steel core she'd been trying to develop where he was concerned. "Maybe he has his reasons," she said.

"Well, maybe they aren't good enough anymore," Oliver growled back.

Before she could even process what that statement might mean, Ray appeared in front of her rushing through the crowd. The tie on his tuxedo still hung loose around his neck. "I'm so sorry," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. His eyes swept over her, "Love the blue – my favorite color, by the way."

Felicity shot him an annoyed look, and Ray held up his hands. "Couldn't be helped. I got a call from someone who wants to donate big to the Star City campaign and was determined to hash out a plan to support the public schools in the Glades, and I just didn't think…" he trailed off, and looked at her. "Forgive me?"

She couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, and she did, after all, have a weapons' smuggler to help catch. Threading her arm through his she said, "You're just lucky I have a soft spot for late men with hero complexes."

As she stepped into the ballroom, genuinely happy to be with him, a small part of her still hoped that Ray Palmer wasn't the only man who understood what she was trying to say.


	4. The Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "missing" bit of season three, episode four.

This was in fact a week from hell. One of many to add to his collection. 

It was bad enough that he was dealing with the enraged-assassin girlfriend of his dead ex-girlfriend.

It was bad enough that Malcolm Merlyn was alive and might be the murderer of said dead ex-girlfriend. And that he had a perfect memory of what Tommy had sounded like when he’d pleaded with Oliver not to kill his father. 

Bad enough that Thea was acting so strange his instincts were telling him that something was definitely off with her.

And bad enough that Laurel had spent the last week looking like she’d nearly been beaten to death and wouldn’t tell him why. 

But the worst part was that as difficult and real and horrible as those things were, they still weren’t managing to completely distract him from the fact that Felicity was gone. Not just gone, gone to Central City to visit Barry Allen. If she was officially moving on, there was no doubt that Barry was the logical choice. His left temple started to throb. Yeah, he liked the kid, but right at the moment, he kind of hated him too. 

With a sigh he pulled his phone from his pocket. Flipped to the second number in his contact list, and deliberately didn’t look at the picture as he dialed the number. She wasn’t going to be happy about this. But then, he was good at making her unhappy. 

It took a moment for her to answer the phone. “What is it, Oliver?” She didn’t sound angry, that might have actually been better. She sounded focused, businesslike, everything he supposedly wanted her to be. 

“I tagged someone with that tracker arrow you designed,” he said. He didn’t tell her who. She’d get that bad news soon enough and sparing her from it for a few days was one tiny thing he could give her. “I need to know how to operate the program.”

“Right,” she said. “I’m going to put you on speaker. I need to finish getting dressed.”

There was a clunk as she set the phone down somewhere. He clenched his teeth together and the pounding in his temple spread to a sharp throbbing pain behind his left eye as he used every ounce of mental discipline to shove a lid on his imagination. The pain crept across the bridge of his nose as he realized that getting dressed at this hour of the day meant she was getting ready to go out somewhere. Thank goodness the explosion had taken that red dress out of commission – and surely she couldn’t have two dresses like that, could she? 

“I specifically designed that program to be easy to use,” she said, obviously a bit distracted. “So all you need to do is click on the Tracker icon on the main monitor and it will begin tracing the signal. Once the program has triangulated his position a map, and GPS coordinates, will display with the information.”

“Fine,” he said. He hadn’t meant to bite the word off so hard. Then before he could stop himself he said, “When are you coming back?”

There was silence on her end of the phone. Then with an edge to her voice that officially spread his headache to his right eye, she said, “Soon. Why? Are you going to question my commitment to Starling City again? ‘Cause I have to tell you that I think I’ve proven…”

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t meant to suggest that. The fact that Felicity was still there in the foundry, every night, helping him with his work when he’d so obviously hurt her, left absolutely no doubt of her dedication. It also made him love her more. 

Clearing his throat he said, “No of course not. I just…” He scrambled for something to say besides blurting out how much he missed her. “Just in case we had a problem with the program.”

“Trust me,” she said pointedly. “An idiot could run it.” 

“Good, great,” Oliver said. He had to get off this phone before he found a way to make her any more angry with him. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” she said. Then for no reason he could think of she switched to sounding sad. “I’ve got to go. I’m actually running a little late.”

“Sure, yeah,” he said. “Bye Felicity.”

“Goodbye Oliver,” she said. “Be safe.”

The last two words were so heartfelt that he swallowed hard as he hung up the phone. He stuck it back in his pocket and moved to the main room of the foundry. As he talked to Digg he tried and failed to ignore the fact that the headache was now fully present and tightening like a pounding band around his entire head. 

“You have Felicity monitoring remote from Central City?” Diggle asked. 

Oliver brought his hands up to press them against his eyes. It didn’t help; in fact with his eyes closed his imagination threw out an image of Felicity in some cut-away dress hanging on the arm of a beaming Barry Allen. 

“No, she said an idiot could run it,” Oliver told Digg.

There was a note of humor in John’s voice as he said. “I will try very hard not to take that personally.”

But Oliver was pretty sure that John Diggle hadn’t been “the idiot” Felicity was referring to.


	5. 10...9...8...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time it's Felicity defusing the bomb...and all Oliver can do is listen.

"Anything, Digg?" Oliver asked his friend.

"Negative, the library is clear," Diggle said through Oliver's earpiece. "You find anything?"

Oliver let out a growl of frustration, "No, the science building was clear too."

Starling University was a hell of a big place to search for a bomb, even with the few hints they'd been able to glean before the frustratingly resurrected Shrapnel killed himself – again. At least this time they'd made certain he was actually dead.

"Roy?" Oliver asked.

"I got nothin'," Roy reported back. "Dr. Myers office doesn't look like it's even been touched."

Before he could respond Felicity's voice broke in, "Oliver?"

Her tone told him immediately that something was wrong. Of all the locations, the museum had been the least likely target. That's why he'd sent her there. Before his brain could even logically process what was happening he was running. "You found it," he said, breathless as he voiced his fears.

"Yeah," she said. He could hear her audible swallow through his earpiece. "It's been armed, looks like by some kind of outside signal. But if it had an arm code it probably has a disarm code and if I can isolate the signal and decode…"

"Hang on," Oliver said, interrupting her, his booted feet pounding down the stairs outside the science building. At a full speed he might make it to her in six and a half minutes. "We'll be right there."

"No you won't," she said, her voice sharp. "There's less than two minutes left. If I can't disarm it there's nothing any of you can do now but get blown up. Get as far away as you can."

"I am not leaving you," he growled.

"Don't have time to argue, Oliver," she said and he could hear the distant sound of her fingers flying across the surface of her tablet.

He couldn't even see the building yet, it was set down below the others at the bottom of a hill. "Roy, Diggle, pull back," he said, even as he kept moving toward her.

Distantly he was aware that both men said something to him, but his brain couldn't seem to hold onto it. "Just go!" he shouted again.

And he kept running.

He wanted to know how long she had, but he couldn't risk interrupting her. As if hearing his thoughts she said, "I've isolated the signal…there's about 90 seconds now. The disarm code looks like it's five digits, alpha-numeric. I've got my scrambler program running now."

The scrambler program, she'd been so proud of the way it could hack any password in less than five minutes.

"Felicity…" he said. Pain shot through the knee he had injured last year, protesting the brutal pace he was setting on the hard concrete.

"Let's hope it's a number," she said, her voice sounding smaller, now, truly scared. "If it's a word, there's no way..." She stopped and he felt an ache in his chest that nearly stopped him in his tracks. "Oliver?"

"I'm here," he said simply, he still couldn't even see the damned building.

"I still…" she stopped. "No, I'm not doing that." He heard her take a sharp breath. "The first two digits are in. We might be okay."

Her unfinished sentence tore at him. "You still what?" he demanded, almost angrily. There was silence. Finally he reached the top of the hill, a minute more and he have the building in sight. "Felicity!"

She let out a little noise that sounded almost like a sob. "Fine…I still love you, you know?"

"I know," he said. "I know." There was a low rock wall edging the sidewalk and he vaulted it, blinking against the sudden moisture in his eyes.

"Thirty seconds, the third digit must be a letter…" she said. "You didn't run away did you?"

"No, I didn't," he said. "I promised I'd protect you," he said, more to himself than to her.

There was a long sigh then. "I wish you'd just loved me instead."

The words hit him so hard that he almost didn't hear what she said next. "Fifteen seconds…huh, third digits a Q…kind of appropriate."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking on the words. "I'm sorry."

"Stop being sorry," she said, a hint of anger in her voice. "Don't let me be another regret you torture yourself with. Please."

He knew they were out of time; he still couldn't see. "Felicity…" he couldn't seem to quit saying her name. "Felicity." There was a squeal in his earpiece and he fell, crumbling to his knees in the middle of the darkness, waiting to hear the explosion.

Instead he heard something that made him doubt his sanity. "Oliver? Oliver?"

He couldn't get enough air into his lungs to respond, and frankly he wondered if it was just some sort of sadistic echo. Then her voice continued. "I'm okay. It got the last digits in time. Oliver?"

"You…" he swallowed hard and tried to climb to his feet. It felt like he'd been hit by a truck. "You cut out for a minute."

"Sorry about that," she said. "The disarm signal interfered with our communications for a moment. Should we call the SCPD bomb squad to come get this ugly little thing?"

Oliver shook his head, his brain felt a bit like he'd been drugged and he desperately tried to clear his thoughts. He forced his legs to move again…he needed to see her. To know it was really true.

"I'll take care of it," Diggle's voice said, breaking in to the conversation. He sounded almost as rattled as Oliver felt. "You sure you're okay?"

"Well, I didn't explode," she said. "But I think I might have sweat through my new silk blouse."

Oliver heard Digg's relieved chuckle. For some reason he was still having trouble forming a sentence. Finally, he saw the building and one better he saw her sitting on the stairs, her blond hair standing out against the darkness. She was focused on her tablet, only looking up as he drew within a few yards of her.

With a concerned look on her face, she stood and started to walk toward him. "Are you…"

The words were cut off as he threw his arms around her pulling her tight to his body and burying his face in her hair. She froze for a moment, and then her arms came around him, her voice muffled against the leather of his jacket. "I'm okay, Oliver. I'm okay."

Pulling back just enough to see her face, he lowered his lips and kissed her, reveling at the feel of her warm breath against his skin. "I do love you," he whispered against her mouth. Then meeting her stunned gaze he said. "And I will love you…if you still want me."

She smiled then, and for the first time since he'd heard her scared voice come over his earpiece he actually started to believe things were going to be okay. She reached inside Oliver's jacket, flipping off the switch that connected their communications. "I think the boys have had enough of the Oliver/Felicity show for one evening."

That made him chuckle, the air still felt rough against his throat, and he couldn't keep himself from saying it again. "I love you."

Her smile went mischievous, and this time it was her whispering against his lips, "I think I got that message."


	6. Three Guys?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity finds out what Oliver saw at the end of 3x07… featuring characters from The Flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will never happen – but just a little fun to get us by until the (Squee!!) crossover episode. Nothing starts off December like a little green and red, huh?

Felicity pulled the communication link out of her ear. Oliver and Barry were on their way back to the foundry. The job was done, another bad guy caught, another city saved. She didn’t have to listen to his voice anymore.

She hadn’t thought it would be possible for things to have gotten tenser between her and Oliver, but apparently she’d been wrong. Diggle’s little visit to her office left her little doubt as to the cause of Oliver’s prickly behavior, but she wasn’t sure there was anything she could do about it. He’d made his choice, forcing her to move on – well, or try to move on, it didn’t seem like anyone actually wanted her. Even Ray, who seemed to be doing a full court press to get her attention, had weirdly backed away from her the day after they had kissed. Seriously wasn’t kissing someone supposed to be a good thing? Maybe she was doing it really wrong.

She let out a long sigh, and was annoyed to feel tears in her eyes. Quickly, she wiped them away hoping no one had noticed. When she felt Caitlin Snow’s eyes on her she knew it hadn’t worked. More people was great for crime fighting, but not so great for privacy. 

“You okay?” Caitlin asked.

Felicity nodded. “Yeah, sure. Just, you know, tired.”

Caitlin nodded slowly and then tilted her head. “Look, I know we don’t know each other very well. But, it’s been nice having another woman around, and if you need to talk to someone…”

Felicity hesitated. She didn’t really know this woman, but Barry trusted her, and strangely she did know more about Felicity’s real life than most people did. “Sometimes men just suck,” Felicity said finally. 

Caitlin smiled. “As a species…or are we talking specifics here?”

That made Felicity smile as well, and already her heart felt lighter. Maybe the whole talking thing wasn’t such a bad idea. “Three men…specifically. Well, maybe two, at least I understand where Barry is coming from.” 

“And what did these two, maybe three, men do?” Caitlin asked. 

Felicity shrugged. “Kissed me.” 

Caitlin’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve kissed three men in…” 

Felicity blew out a long breath and fidgeted her head from side to side. “About two months?” 

Caitlin’s expression looked like she was solving some sort of complex calculation. “Is this normal behavior for you?”

Felicity shook her head. “Oh no, that’s more men than I’ve kissed in the last three years combined.” 

Then Caitlin got a concerned look. “And one of them was Barry?”

Felicity realized then that, of course, Caitlin would be most concerned about Barry. He’d been through a lot in the last few months. 

She hurried to reassure her new friend, “Yeah, but you don’t have to worry about that one, it was sort of a goodbye thing, I guess? I don’t really know, but there’s nothing going on between us, and we’re totally okay with that. Which is why I didn’t really want to include Barry in the whole ‘men sucking’ thing, but we did kiss, and he’s still more interested in…” 

Felicity cut off abruptly. The last thing she needed to do was blab out Barry’s secrets to one of his partners. She took a deep breath. “He and I are fine, I promise.” 

Caitlin made a face that was combination of confusion and amusement. “All right, so you kissed two other men…not Barry…who do suck?” 

Felicity nodded and her shoulders slumped. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

She could see Caitlin’s brain working. “Oliver?” 

Feeling her face heat, Felicity nodded. “Yep.” 

Then Caitlin made a slightly disgusted face. “You didn’t kiss Roy did you? That would be like me making out with Cisco.” 

Felicity let out a startled laugh. “No, I did not kiss Roy.”

Caitlin nodded, obviously relieved, but then looked at Felicity with a questioning gaze. There was an awkward moment of silence as Felicity tried to decide if she’d already said too much. Finally she blurted, “Ray Palmer.”

Caitlin sat back in her chair, obviously a little surprised. “So…uh…clearly you have a type.”

“Yeah,” Felicity said. And though she knew what Caitlin meant she said, “Guys who kiss me but don’t actually want to be with me.”

“Did they say why?” Caitlin asked. 

Felicity shrugged. “Ray’s a total mystery, one minute he’s buying entire companies to get me to work for him and dresses that cost more than what I make in a week…and the next he’s going out of his way to avoid me.”

“Okay, that does suck,” Caitlin agreed. Then giving Felicity a very kind look, she said, “And Oliver?”

Felicity felt tears in her eyes again. “He all but told me he loved me,” she said. She hated how small her voice sounded, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “But he’s also made it clear that he doesn’t think he can be with anyone right now.” 

“That’s really stupid,” Caitlin said bluntly.

Felicity blinked and looked up at her. “He feels like with how dangerous things are…”

Caitlin shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, that’s just stupid. If you love someone, really love them, then you’re the worst kind of idiot not to spend every moment you can with them.” Caitlin’s voice broke at the end and Felicity remembered Barry telling her about Caitlin losing her fiancé in the particle accelerator explosion. Before Felicity could say anything, Caitlin composed herself. “So you’re right …again, about the sucking.” 

Felicity shrugged, “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I…”

“No,” Caitlin said firmly. She held up her hand, “Granted it wasn’t the most sensible move to kiss three men in a matter of months, but you are one of the smartest and kindest people I’ve ever met. Whatever is going on with them it is definitely their problem.” 

“Thank you,” Felicity said. Logically she’d already known it, but hearing someone else say it did help. “Maybe someday a guy will care enough about me to stick around for more than ten seconds after they kiss -” 

She cut off abruptly hearing a noise from the back of the foundry. Caitlin’s head whipped around as well and they both watched as Barry and Oliver came into view, the looks on their faces making her suspect they’d heard more than a few words of the conversation. Felicity inwardly cursed, she’d forgotten about the other entrance. Oliver usually used the stairs giving her fair warning of his approach. 

She looked up at the two of them. Barry looked embarrassed and chagrined, Oliver looked….she wasn’t sure how Oliver looked, except that he was staring at her. 

“Uh, hi,” Caitlin said. “Glad to see you both back in one piece.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Felicity couldn’t bring herself to look away from the expression on Oliver’s face. First of all, it was amazing to see him actually have an expression for a change, and this one was so strange it made her wonder what on earth was going through his head. His eyes were angry but there was also a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Could you …” Oliver’s voice came out strangled and he cleared it and started again. “Could you guys give us a minute?” 

Caitlin looked at Felicity. “You okay with that?”

Oliver leveled a glare at Caitlin that would have terrified most people, but Caitlin pointedly ignored him. Felicity wondered what on earth Oliver had to say to her at this point, and if she even wanted to hear it, but she nodded. “Sure, yeah.” 

“Let’s go Barry,” Caitlin said. 

“I need to change…” Barry started. Oliver’s glare moved from Caitlin to his younger friend, and Barry took a step back. “Let me just…” There was a bolting streak of red light, and suddenly he stood there in his street clothes. “We’ll be upstairs.” 

Felicity couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle at Barry’s casual demonstration of his new powers. “Thanks guys.” 

Felicity deliberately took her gaze off of Oliver staring at the floor as Barry and Caitlin climbed the stairs, hearing a thud as the door shut. The silence was a thick loaded thing in the air and when she heard Oliver’s bow click into its case Felicity finally looked up. Oliver was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. She watched he pushed his hood back, pulled off his mask, and removed his gloves. Then he leaned against the table across from her and folded his arms. He shook his head slightly, “I don’t…I don’t know where to start.”

She resisted the urge to get up and walk over to him. “How much did you hear?”

He took a breath so deep that she could see the way it pushed at the seams of the green leather jacket. “About the spot where Dr. Snow decided I was an idiot.” 

“Oh,” she said. She fought the urge to apologize. Okay.”

There was an agonized look on his face then and he looked down. “She’s not wrong.” He looked up then, “Felicity, I feel like I’ve…” He stopped and his eyes narrowed, “Wait, you kissed three guys? Who’s the third one?” 

Felicity felt a flare of irritation. If he knew that she’d kissed someone other than him it meant that “The Flash” had been running more than just his legs. “I can’t believe Barry told you.” 

Oliver froze and he glared toward the ceiling. “You kissed Barry?” He made the name sound like it was the lowest form of life imaginable. “When?”

“When I went to visit Central City,” she said feeling a little angry. Where did he get off judging her about who she….then her brain caught up. Seriously, this was like an angsty version of an Abott and Costello routine. “Wait, you didn’t know about Barry?”

He clenched his teeth, “No. I didn’t.” 

That left only one possibility, though she couldn’t imagine it. “Then you knew about Ray.”

Glancing away from her, his arms lowered to his sides to grab the edge of the table. “Yeah.” 

She did stand up then. “How?”

Giving a little shrug he said, “I saw you.” He looked up at then, and it was clear, that for once he wasn’t even trying to hide his emotions. The heartbreak in his eyes made her take two steps in his direction, and she just stopped herself from reaching out in an inherent need to comfort him. 

“What were you doing there?” she said. 

“I went,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “I came to talk to you…I wanted…” He stopped and the pained look faded a little to be replaced with something else, something that looked oddly like hope. She wasn’t sure she’d seen quite that expression on his face before. “I heard you say that…you said no one wanted to be with you.” His voice faded to a whisper on the last part of the sentence. “Does that mean that you and Palmer aren’t..?” 

“I don’t know what his deal is,” she said honestly. “But, no, we’re not together if that’s what you’re asking.” 

This time it was Oliver who took two steps toward her. “Good.”

She felt a huge surge of anticipation and joy that belied every effort she had made to move on from the man standing in front of her. Swallowing hard, her voice kind, she said, “And why is that good, Oliver?”

He took another step toward her, their faces just inches apart now. “I know I’ve done everything wrong with this, with us, but,” he took a breath that to her surprise hitched in his throat, it took everything in her to stay still, to stay quiet, to wait as he worked his way through what he needed to say. This was not another brush off, she could feel it. 

When his eyes met hers, there was something determined there. “Digg said something to me. He said, that if I really wanted you to be happy I’d be with you. Is that true… I mean, still?” 

She couldn’t help it then, she reached up and put her hand on his face. His eyes closed and he leaned into her touch, and she saw some of the tension ease out of his jaw, out of his shoulders. “Yes.” 

Taking a shaking breath he opened his eyes. He reached toward her, his fingertips brushing her cheek, a whispered sensation that moved down over her jaw, his hand settling in the spot where her shoulder met neck, his thumb continuing feather light strokes against her skin. But it was the way he looked at her, even more than the touch, that made her hold her breath.. No one had ever looked at her like that before. “Oliver?” she whispered. She needed to hear him say it, needed him to confirm what her eyes and her heart were telling her. 

“I want this,” he said, there was an edge of a growl in his low voice. “I want us.” 

She wanted this too. She always had, from the minute she’d realized who he was, and what he risked, and how hard he fought. But she also needed to know he wasn’t going to change his mind tomorrow. She wasn’t sure she could live through it again. “What about –“ 

“I don’t care anymore,” he said, cutting her off, the words held an edge of anger, at what she wasn’t sure, but strangely that anger made her believe him more than a softer emotion might have. He let out a long breath, and shaking his head slightly he said, “I love you, and I’m so tired of being without you.” 

She smiled, and now there were tears in her eyes for a different reason. “It’s about time.” 

He let out a surprised, choked laugh, and then he was kissing her. It was a slightly desperate kiss, the hand at her neck sliding into her hair and the other hand coming up to clench the sleeve of her blouse in his fist, as if he was afraid to let her go. 

When he pulled back she couldn’t help but smile so wide she felt her cheeks ache. “I guess kissing isn’t so bad after all.” 

He smiled too but there was an edge of something dangerous in his eyes as he said, “As long as you stick to doing it with me from now on.”


	7. You Got This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little blurb of Felicity/Diggle friendship that I intended to be part of something larger that didn't materialize. Thought I'd clean it up and share.

"Felicity?"

John Diggle's voice broke into her thoughts, but she didn't look up from her tablet. She was desperately trying to memorize the names and faces of the people who might be at the Starling Cancer Society benefit she was about to walk into. "Yes, John?"

"You okay back there?" he asked.

"Sure," she said quickly. Then, nervously, she looked up to meet his gaze in the rear-view mirror. With Oliver's funds partially restored Diggle had once again resumed his "black driver" persona. "Why?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Because you're tapping your foot so hard it feels like we're having another earthquake."

She looked down only to discover that she was in fact anxiously pounding her black heeled toe against the floor of the Bentley with enough force that it drove her knee into the back of Diggle's seat with every tap. "Sorry," she said. "I'll scoot over."

He let out a chuckle. "Or you could, I don't know, relax?"

"I can't relax," she said. "I'm about to walk into one of the most exclusive parties in Starling; full of high-society piranhas and women whose dresses probably cost more than my car. And if that weren't bad enough one of them is likely to be a pyscho-killer criminal mastermind."

"And?" Digg said, with a shrug.

She sighed, and looked out the window, wishing Oliver would just hurry up already. "I'm the nerdy daughter of a cocktail waitress who's wearing a secondhand dress. I don't belong in his world."

There was a smirk on Digg's face as he said, "His world?"

She glared at Diggle. "That world…you know what I mean."

"I do," Digg said, with a single nod. "But I also know that you could go in there in a clown suit and forget every name and spill cocktail sauce on the mayor and Oliver still would be glad to have you by his side."

She couldn't help but smile at the image, then her nerves got the better of her again and she frowned. "What makes you so sure?"

Digg turned so he could look her at her. "Because if Oliver wanted someone else, or something else, he would have chosen it. Instead, he's chosen you again and again."

She took a deep breath. "I guess."

Then Digg shrugged and turned back to look out the window. "And Oliver Queen aside you're twice the woman of any of those piranhas in there. You took down Slade Wilson and have gone toe to toe with Malcolm Merlyn. Trust me, you got this."

Those words finally registered in a way nothing else had and she felt herself relax for the first time that evening. She reached up and squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you, John."

"No problem," then he straightened up. "Here's that boy of yours now…finally."

Oliver opened the door of the car and slid in next to Felicity. Reaching for her hand he said, "We set?"

Felicity met Digg's eyes in the mirror again. "We are now."


	8. Oliver's Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ordinary morning in the new life of Mr. Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluffly drabble based on two lines Stephen Amell's given about what we'll see at the beginning of Season Four.

His shoes slapped the sidewalk in a perfect, calming rhythm as he dug in to finish the hill. The trees above him were a brilliant autumn gold in the morning light, but it was still warm enough that he'd begun to sweat through his t-shirt somewhere in mile three.

When he'd first started running it had seemed almost ridiculous. It was too simple, too "guy from the suburb with 2.5 kids," but now he liked it, the soft sounds of the day beginning around him, the routine, the fact he could still push himself to exhaustion if he needed to. Though these days he rarely did.

Something at the crest of the hill caught his attention; two kids, a boy and girl, staring up at one of the trees. Their little voices were sharp with anger and concern. The boy was older, blonde, and the little girl was rail thin with even thinner brown braids hanging down her shoulders. He had a sentimental flash to himself and Thea, though they'd been farther apart in age than these two.

As he continued to push forward he saw what they were looking at. At pink and gold kite – a butterfly? – stuck in the top of the tree. He slowed his pace as he approached.

"You have to get it down," the girl pleaded. "It's my show and tell."

The boy scowled, "I'm not Superman, Kaylee. Go get Dad."

"If I go get Dad, I'll be late," the girl stated as if she were saying the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the one that let it go."

Oliver smiled slightly, eyeing the tree. The first branch big enough to hold his weight was a good nine feet off the ground. It had been awhile, but…

He increased his speed, hearing exclamations from surprise from the kids as he ran at the tree. The momentum helped him push off a knot about four feet up the trunk, giving him the air he needed to grab the sturdier branch and swing himself up. He easily negotiated the next few feet, feeling a bit of a sting on his forearm from a stray twig.

The kite perched at the very edge of a long thin branch at the top of the tree, so he worked his way across a sturdier limb below. The last bit of this – the bit that made him hesitate for just a moment, required him to jump, grab the kite with one hand, while steadying his ascent with the other, and somehow regain his footing on the slippery bark below. There was one wobbly second where he worried if tree climbing was going to be the cause of his first injury in five months, but he managed to steady himself and make his way safely back to the ground in seconds.

As he approached the kids, he saw that they were staring at him, mouths slightly open in shock. He approached slowly, holding the kite out to the girl. "Here you go."

She took it, stuttering slightly as she said, "Thank…thank you."

"Dude!" the little boy said, his face splitting into a huge grin. "That was completely awesome."

Oliver laughed. 'Thanks." Then his watch started beeping. He frowned, as he turned off the alarm. "Gotta go."

As he headed away from them he called back. "Good luck with show and tell."

Pushing himself back up to a full run, he chewed through the last half mile between the kite kids and home. He tried to be quiet as he opened the front door, pausing to listen. Good, he wasn't too late, she was still asleep. With practiced motions he filled the coffee maker, slid eggs into a frying pan, and popped bread into the toaster.

He was just buttering the toast when a pair of lovely arms wrapped around his middle. Putting his hands over hers, he felt her lay her head between his shoulder blades. In a still groggy voice she said, "You know, I thought the salmon ladder was impressive. But it has nothing on a man who will make breakfast."

Turning in her hold, he smiled down at her. Her hair was a crazy cloud of blonde, and her green t-shirt – one of his – hung askew off of one shoulder and clashed slightly with her bright floral PJ bottoms. Leaning down to kiss her he said, "Good to know – because if I keep eating like this the eight pack is never coming back."

Felicity laughed, pushing up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Moving to pour two mugs of coffee she said, "Oh, I think the women of the world can live with a mere six pack if it means you get to eat."

"As long as you can live with it," he said, reaching into the cabinet to grab plates. He saw a frown cross her face. "What?"

She reached and touched his arm. "What happened?"

Looking down, he realized the "scratch" from the tree branch was a little worse than he'd thought. There was a long gory gash from his wrist to his elbow. "Uh…kite rescue," he said.

Her eyes scrunched together in confusion. "Is that some sort of new extreme sport?"

"It could be," he said, sliding eggs onto the plates. "Some kids got their's stuck in a tree – and I grabbed it for them."

She smiled brightly and the sight of it warmed and calmed him in ways he'd once thought impossible. "Still a hero," she said, reaching for him. She paused as his cell phone rang.

Scowling at the interruption, he pulled the phone from his pocket. With a sigh he said, "It's Thea."

He answered the phone and in the rush of words out of his sister's mouth he knew this was no ordinary call. "What's wrong, Speedy?"


	9. The Complete Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna has some "good news" - but Oliver doesn't take it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, long time, no see. I've been wrangling some major league health issues, but when I saw Donna and Quentin together, I just really wanted Oliver's reaction to the possibility of well - this. And for all those people who insist that Oliver needs to be with a woman who is a "Lance" in order to be true to the Green Arrow canon – Merry Christmas ;-)
> 
> It's mostly dialogue and written quickly, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

When Felicity opened the front door of the loft, she was greeted by the sight of her mother who flew inside and hugged her so tight that Felicity winced. Had her mother forgotten the whole bullet wound thing?

"Oh baby, you're not going to believe what I have to tell you!" she squealed.

Felicity resisted the urge to sigh. Her mother had left a message yesterday that she'd been in Hawaii, but that she was headed to Star City and had "big news" for her daughter and Oliver.

Disentangling herself enough to shut the door, Felicity turned and saw that her mom was holding up her hand, her left hand, and that there were not one, but two rings, on the most significant finger. "Mom?"

"I got married!" Donna said jumping up and down. "Can you believe it?"

"Believe what?" Oliver said coming in from the kitchen. He'd been making dinner – some kind of elaborate lamb recipe to celebrate Felicity's first month anniversary of being home from the hospital.

Donna launched herself at Oliver and gave her future son-in-law a bone crushing hug. "We got married!"

Oliver sent Felicity a shocked look over her mother's shoulder, a question clear in his eyes. Felicity realized with a start, that in all the craziness that had ensued during the last holiday she'd never told him about seeing her mother with Quentin Lance…her mother couldn't really have married Captain Lance, could she? And would being shot be a good enough excuse for the fact Felicity hadn't told Oliver about it? Oh boy.

Oliver pulled back from the hug. "Um…congratulations? Who's the lucky guy?"

Felicity sent her mother a panicked look. "Mom please tell me you didn't marry…"

Donna batted Oliver's arm playfully. "Oh, like you don't know. I doubt Felicity's that good at keeping secrets."

Oliver frowned and glanced at Felicity who felt like her world was tipping off its axis. Clearing his throat Oliver said, "You'd be surprised."

"You," Donna said proudly, pointing at herself, "are looking at the new Mrs. Quentin Lance."

Felicity saw Oliver's face go a shade bordering between white and grey. "What?"

For the first time Donna seemed to realize that she was dropping a bomb. "Felicity really didn't tell you about us?"

"Mom!" Felicity said sharply. "I saw you kissing at the holiday party," Felicity said. "I didn't think that equaled true love!"

"Well, sometimes it does," Donna said, shrugging her shoulders. Then she turned back to her daughter's fiancé, "Oliver, honey, are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Congratulations," he said numbly. "I just need to…." And without another word he turned and walked out of the room.

"He seems upset," Donna said, turning a confused look on her daughter. "Does he not like Quentin?"

"Um…there's a history," Felicity said. "They're okay now, but they've…well, did you know that Oliver dated both of his daughters?"

"Well, and now he's engaged to his step-daughter," Donna said cheerily. "So he's got the complete set."

"Oh boy," Felicity thought again, although this time out loud. "Can you just excuse me for a minute?"

She went in the kitchen and found Oliver leaning against the counter, staring at the tile, arms crossed over his chest. His face was blank.

"Don't be mad at me, it wasn't like I kept it a secret," Felicity said quickly walking toward him. "If you'll remember the whole abduction and shooting thing you'll know I have a pretty good excuse for forgetting to…"

"I'm not mad at you," Oliver interrupted, his voice flat.

She walked forward and put her hands on his upper arms, looking up into his face. "Then what?"

He shook his head. "Your mother just married Captain Lance."

"Yeah," Felicity said. "Weird, right?" She narrowed her eyes trying to understand his reaction.

"I just," he took a deep breath. "I thought I was getting a fresh start – you know, with you."

"You are," Felicity said firmly. "You are."

He shook his head and sighed. "I was. But now – well you realize that you're…"

Felicity realized what he was getting at, it was a continuation of her mother's comment about a "complete set." She sighed and rested her head against his still tense bicep, "Kind of Captain Lance's daughter?"

"Yes," Oliver said, biting off the word.

Felicity let out a tired laugh. "I promise not to let him adopt me, if that helps."

Oliver let out a dry chuckle and his arm finally came around to lay on her back. "Don't let him walk you down the aisle. That would creep me out."

"Really?" Felicity said looking up at Oliver, "because I was thinking about asking him anyway…" Oliver's glare stopped her in her tracks. "Okay then. Barry? I'd ask Digg, but you already stole him to be best man."

Rolling his eyes Oliver said. "I can live with that."

"Holy crap," Felicity said leaning her head on his chest. "Do you think they told Laurel yet?"

Just as she asked the question they heard the door slam in the front room and two familiar voices, a father and daughter, yelling.

"I'd say the answer is yes," Oliver said.

Felicity reached for his hand. "C'mon then. Let's go meet my new daddy," she said sarcastically.

"Don't even…" Oliver said sharply. "Please don't call him that ever again."

"Oh yeah," Felicity said, rolling her eyes. "This is going to be fun."


	10. Why Are You Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four weeks after they take down Darkh - Oliver finally asks her the question.

He knows he shouldn’t ask. He should just be grateful. And he is grateful, short of parachuting onto Lian Yu with Diggle, it might be the most supportive thing she’s ever done for the Arrow, or the Green Arrow, or whatever. 

But it’s driving him, Oliver, crazy. Yeah, he’s even doing the third person thing in his own head now. It’s that bad. 

And he doesn’t know how to act. 

Like last Tuesday when he came into the bunker and found her watching an update on the nuclear cleanup in Havenrock with silent tears streaming down her face. Lyla had told them the week before that the President had decided to keep their role in the disaster, or lack thereof, as quiet as possible. But he can tell it’s haunting Felicity, understandably, like nothing ever has before, and she won’t say a word about it. 

Even in the first year of their partnership he would have done something – put a hand on her shoulder, talked to her – but now…if he tried to hug her would it cross a line? Was he being ruthlessly insensitive if he didn’t?

Hell.  
He just didn’t know. 

So four weeks after they’ve taken down Darhk – four weeks of just the two of them acting like being congenial business partners is the awkward norm – he finally breaks. 

In all fairness he’d been stabbed, twice, fighting off an entire gang of street thugs. He is exhausted and in pain, and he’s just spent several minutes trying to ignore the fact that his injuries aren’t keeping him from being aware of just how good it feels to have her touching him. 

Her fingers are smoothing down the tape at the edges of his bandages, gliding gently over the skin on his side. There is worry and sorrow written all over her lovely face, and almost without thinking he takes her hand in his. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t pull away immediately, which is something, but she doesn’t look at him. Giving his fingers a gentle squeeze she steps back, reaching for a bottle of medication. “Two of Digg’s ‘aspirins,’” she says, shaking the pills into his hand. “No arguments.”

Turning, she goes to get him a drink and the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“Why are you here?” The words are quiet, but they seem to echo. 

She freezes for a brief second and then continues, retrieving a water bottle and coming back. “Take them,” she says, finally looking at him with a no nonsense glare.

He does take the pills, more to have something to do with himself than anything else, and wonders if she is just going to ignore the question. Maybe it’s better if she does. 

Then she steps back folding her arms tight and dipping her chin down to her chest. He knows that move, recognizes it as what she does when she feels the most anxious and vulnerable. He hates – hates – that he’s the one who’s making her feel that way. 

Clearing his throat he tries to push off the table. “Forget it, Felicity. Please. Everything’s okay.”

Her chin comes up, and there’s the tiniest hint of a smile on her face even as her eyes go glassy with both tears and what looks like confusion. But the smile and the chin lift, however small, make him feel a fraction less like a jerk. 

“No,” she says. “It’s a fair question.”

He tries to take a step forward but he’s a little lightheaded. Blood loss, probably. She’s there in an instant to steady him, and he shakes his head and lets out a disbelieving huff as she helps him to a chair. “Felicity, I don’t know that I have any right to ‘fair,’ in this case,” he says, the words come out in a teeth clenched growl. He’s more hurt than he thought and he’s grateful to sink into the soft chair, to simply hold still. For once, he’s glad he let her talk him into the narcotics. 

She moves away from him, but only long enough to grab her chair and pull it over so they are sitting next to each other. Her knee – bare because of her skirt, is a hairsbreadth from his. Leaning back, she folds her arms again, looking at him. 

Tilting his head to rest on his shoulder out of pure exhaustion he returns her gaze. And even that seems like a gift, that she lets him look at her. 

She closes her eyes, and opens them, and behind the dark frames of her glasses there is a hint of humor. “I don’t know.”

It’s such an honest answer that he can feel it pull a little smile out of him. There’s a moment of quiet, and he feels the need to respond. “Okay.”

“I could tell you,” she says, giving a nervous head shake, “that it’s because of the work we do. And it is but…”

“But you were going to walk away,” he finishes. Then he grimaces, that’s the last thing he wanted to remind her of. Maybe the blood loss is affecting his brain. 

“I was,” she says, her head still moving, her eyes drifting to look at the ceiling. “I really was.” 

“Glad you didn’t,” he says quickly, his voice is still rough from pain and he shifts in the chair trying to take some weight off his injured side. 

She lets out a startled and slightly choked little laugh. Then she nods. Finally, she looks back at him and her gaze is so direct it makes him uncomfortable. “Oliver, why do you think I’m here?”

He searches her face looking for the answer – the expression he sees is a familiar one and he tries to place it. The memory that surfaces seems odd, but there’s no doubt - it’s the same look on her face that she had when she told him, so long ago, that he deserved better than a fling with Isabel Rochev – hurt yes, and anger, but also a plea – a plea for him to believe…

“You love me.” He can’t really believe he said it out loud and for a moment he feels sheer panic, taking a sharp breath that rips pain across his damaged side. 

Then she smiles. It’s wobbly and she wrinkles her nose, but with that smile comes a word. “Yep.”

He tries to sit up straight and says quickly, “Does that mean…”

But she cuts him off, standing and reaching up to rub the side of her head in a nervous gesture, “Nope. No. Let’s not have that conversation yet, okay?”

Yet. That might be the best word he’s heard in a long time. “Okay,” he agrees quickly. 

Suddenly she’s a flurry of movement, grabbing her purse and keys, handing him a grey hoodie. “Let’s just hope no one sees you, my friend. Because I’m not quite ready to take your pants off you.” She freezes and closes her eyes, clearly regretting her word choice.

It’s so freaking adorable. And so them. 

“Duly noted,” he says, aiming for the same deadpan voice he used to give her when she made some unintentionally risqué comment. 

Her eyes come open and she glares at him, but there’s no real heat in it. “C’mon, let’s take you home.”

He keeps himself from commenting when she insists on coming inside and helping him get up the stairs. And when she’s there in the morning with coffee and more pain pills. And when she does, in fact, help him get dressed so he can make it to a mayoral staff meeting – blushing the whole time.

They don’t kiss. She doesn’t move back in. And his mother’s ring stays tucked in the bottom of his top dresser drawer. 

But the next time she’s crying he walks across the room, and turns her chair around, and pulls her into his arms. The tears stop being so silent. 

And that’s truly enough of a miracle for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kinda not okay that Arrow nuked a city – even fictionally that seems WAY over the top, but it does seem like that would be the major issue Felicity is dealing with over the summer, so I went with it – at least there are emotional consequences, if nothing else.


End file.
